


Breaking Ice

by mathelode (engmaresh)



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Batdad, F/F, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-07-28 23:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20072104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/mathelode
Summary: Terrible Brown luck strikes again during a fight with Freeze. But this time, Stephanie's not alone. She has Cass.





	Breaking Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).

It’s really stupid, the way it happens. They’ve just about routed Freeze. A well aimed batarang by yours truly, Stephanie Brown, had taken out his main freeze gun and now they have him in retreat. That’s something Batman immediately takes advantage of, leaping from a jagged peak of ice, full of sturm and drang and whatnot. Then there’s Cass, hidden being a frozen spray of water, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. And Steph, well, she’d struck the “killing” blow, and so now she’ll back them up in any way she can.

It’s just bad Brown luck. Some inattentiveness on her part. Freeze’s shitty aim. A patch of rotten ice, a frozen snag of choppy water that catches her heel and she goes down heavily. There’s a second, right before her elbow strikes the ice, when she thinks it _miiight_ just hold. Nope. _Crack_ _crack_ _crack _goes the ice. Even Freeze’s head turns (Batman’s doesn’t, of course it doesn’t, he always _Focused™_), in time to witness her humiliating plunge in Sprang River’s icy depths. It is almost a relief, really, to have the icy water close over her face, except that it’s really fucking cold, and watertight her suit is not. It’s water resistant, but it’s not meant for full immersion, and she can immediately feel water seeping in through the uncovered part of her cowl, and over the tops of her boots. It bites.

Quickly reorienting herself, Stephanie pushes up towards the ice. It’s not easy, with her boots and cape, and already she’s seeing the dark patch where she’d broken through recede as the river’s fairly strong current pulls away. Though it pains her to do so, she unsnaps her cape, feeling the immediate relief as it’s swept away, lightening the drag it had on her shoulders. From her utility belt she fumbles out one of those compressed air rebreathers of alien origin. The ones Batman somehow has because he’s BFFs with Green Lantern or something, or because Lucius Fox is just that genius at reverse engineering alien tech. The air tastes metallic and stale, but at least she doesn’t have to worry anymore about running out of air.

Water’s creeping further into her suit, and it’s seeped all the way up into the cowl that even the fitted seal around the lenses don’t quite help anymore. She pushes out forcefully with her heavy boots, stroking up once, twice. These bring her to the surface–or where the surface would have been if it hadn’t been covered for miles by ice. Of course Freeze _ had _ to have started downstream. Her fingers scrabble uselessly at the hard, cold surface. She can feel the water in her boots now, nipping her toes. Between fighting both the current and the cold, her arms are already tiring. Not to mention all the extra padding in her cold weather suit that, newfangled, lightweight, water-wicking technology that it may be, is still absorbing the water that seeps in and is beginning to weigh her down. She briefly considers how long it would take her to spill out at the mouth of the river were she to swim with the current. The ice would be weaker there, or completely melted.

But fuck that. That’s just too easy. Like a good Bat, Stephanie’s gonna do this the hard way, and she’s going to be completely badass about it. 

She pulls out her grapple gun, takes aim at the closest dark spot rushing past and fires. Hopefully that’s where the ice is thinnest, and not the base of some giant ice mountain. It breaks through, and there’s a heart stopping moment where it keeps spooling out and she keeps drifting, until the hook snags on something and she jerks to a halt.

She’d cheer, if it weren’t for the breathing apparatus clenched between her teeth.

Slowly the grapple reels her in, bringing Steph closer and closer to the surface. The hole isn’t big enough to squeeze through, but she manages to punch through with the arm holding the grapple, and jams the fins of her bracers into the ice as far as she can reach, hoping that it doesn’t give way too. She holds on to the grapple just in case. Then she reaches for a batarang with her free hand and starts hacking away at the ice. It gives easier in one section, and soon she’s got an opening that sort-of-ish might fit her. Stephanie’s gonna risk it anyway. The cold is more numbing than biting now, and she’s tired, really tired. And the ice looks like it will hold her, so she grabs onto the edge with her batarang-ed hand, once again making use of the blade and the fins on her braces to get a good hold. Hand over hand she drags herself out of the river, the pull of the current lessening until she’s out, she’s free. She spits out the rebreather and takes several deep breaths of the fresh but also bitingly cold air. It seers her lungs, but it’s still fresh-ish, smoggy Gotham air.

It’s tempting now, to just stay this way, laying down in the ice. To catch her breath and maybe also take a quick nap. But no, she has a fight to win, and she has no idea how long she’s been underwater. 

Stephanie starts moving, but stays on her belly. This keeps her center of gravity low and she commando crawls along until she reaches the shoreline where the ice is thicker and its feels safer to get somewhat shakily to her feet. Ahead, just about thirty yards away, Batman and Black Bat have Freeze pinned, stuck to the ice with a quick hardening epoxy. Batman’s bent over Freeze’s chest, a panel at his knee, so he’s probably trying to override the suit’s defense mechanisms so that cops and Arkham guards can handle him safely.

Cass stands guard, watching over the downed man with a keen eye, until she catches sight of Steph running up to them. It’s just a quick glance; a minute turn of her head, a small quirk of her lips, but with a domino on instead of her old full-face mask, so much easier to see. Stephanie sees it, and Freeze does too. And he’s been fighting Bats for ten years now, and knows when to take an opportunity when it presents itself. Apparently he’s managed to work an arm free, and it snaps up, hurling a small metallic capsule in Cass’s direction. Cass is already twisting to dodge it, _ will _probably dodge it successfully. But Freeze’s little surprises can have a pretty wide range, and Steph, well she’s still running. Cass is right in her path, and she can be damn fucking fast when she needs to be.

She throws herself forward, catching Black Bat right behind the knees, and they go down together, crashing heavily into the ice and sliding a yard or so before they fetch up against an icy outcropping. It jabs Stephanie painfully in the back, winding her further. The ice thankfully holds despite their hard lending. 

Cass immediately leaps to her feet, and after a quick once over of Stephanie, lunges to Batman’s aid. While shielding himself from the blast of the nitrogen bomb, Freeze had apparently managed to clock Batman in the head, and Cass races to pin the villain back down again. Steph stays where she is. Taking out Freeze’s gun, saving Cass; she’s done with heroics for the day. And she’s still having trouble catching her breath.

Batman does something that makes some of the blinky lights on Freeze’s suit go out, and as if on queue, the cops rush in, dressed in Freeze-appropriate gear, gun’s leading. An EMT follows carefully, heading for Steph. Steph gives her the thumbs up, indicating that it’s safe to approach. She’s shaking now. As the police do their thing, the EMT—Kirsten, she introduces herself—pulls out a foil blanket and immediately wraps Stephanie in it.

“I’d recommend taking off your wet clothes but–”

“Ugh yeah, secret identity,” Steph groans through chattering teeth. “It’s okay, I’ve–”

“Car.” Cass pops up, seemingly out of thin air. Kirsten yelps in surprise. Stephanie’s so cold she can only twitch. Shoulda stayed in the water, it felt like a warm bath compared to this.

“The car,” Cass says again, already pulling Stephanie’s right arm over her shoulder, trying not to dislodge the blanket. “It’s nearby.” She points, somewhere up the bank, in the dark.

“Are you sure?” says Kirsten, looking hesitant. “I shouldn’t–”

“I-it’s fine,” Steph reassures her. “Black Bat can take care of me, yeah?” She tries to give Cass a playful dig in the ribs, but her tremors turn it more into a painful jab.

Cass just sort of moves with the blow, rising to her feet and pulling Steph up with her, even as she gives Kirsten a nod and a thumbs-up. “She’s in good hands.”

To Steph: “You can walk?”

For a second Steph considers letting her girlfriend sweep her up bridal style and carry her away, but that’s just her cold-addled brain talking. Not in front of the GCPD. Definitely not in front of Batman. Besides, Cass would probably just hitch her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She’s practical that way.

“I can walk.”

The Batmobile’s not parked that far away, or maybe Steph sort of dozes off for a minute or so (she definitely didn’t pass out) because the next things she’s aware of is Cassandra lightly smacking her face.

“Gerrof me,” Steph grumbles. She bats Cass’ hands away. 

“Clothes,” says Cass, already working on the snaps of Steph’s chestplate. “Off. Now, quickly.”

“Wow, Cass,” mutters Steph, working her cowl off her face. “It’s like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

Cass gives her a dry “haha” that sounds a bit too much like Bruce as she pulls off Steph’s boots and tosses them into the footwell. She helps Steph take apart the top armoured part of her suit. Then comes the winter padding, now waterlogged, soggy, clingy and way too cold. “I hate this!” Steph wails, as Cass grabs the hem of the undershirt and helps pull it over her head. Her head gets stuck in it, thanks to her wet, heavy hair, making it feel way to uncomfortably hood-like for a moment. Of course, thrashing about in the blindly backseat doesn’t help, but Steph feels just about done with everything and just wants to lie down and sleep.

“Stop...wriggling,” she hears her girlfriend say though the thick material, and a heavy weight drops down in Steph’s lap, pinning her in place as Cass works the undershirt over her head. With the wet garment out of the way, heat envelopes Steph like a warm bath. Cass must have cranked the heaters all the way up. 

“Pants,” says Cass, her slim fingers already sliding into the waist of Stephanie’s uniform. 

“Ugh no,” she groans, rolling over and fumbling under the seat where she knows blankets are kept. They’d be softer than that crinkly foil one and she’s most dry anyway now.

“Pants now,” Cassandra demands, and pulls anyway, nearly taking Stephanie’s underwear with them (she squeaks and pulls them back up because there’s no way she’s sitting bare-ass naked in this car). In theory, it would all be kinda sexy, maybe, since Cass has taken off her mask and her hair is mussed from wrestling Stephanie’s uncooperative suit off, but at the moment Steph’s brain really isn’t online for more than a deep longing for those crazy-soft blankets Bruce keeps in his tank-car because the man is a hedonist. That and the fact that sex in the Batmobile is definitely _ not _ one of her fantasies. There’s been too much blood spilled in these back seats, and she’s pretty sure half the fam has already screwed in them anyway. It’s just gross.

Finally ensconced in blankets, she snuggles back into the seat and watches through slitted eyes as Cassandra takes her own suit off. Wait.

“What are you doing?” She doesn’t–Cass knows this isn’t–is it too hot for her?

“Your torso needs to be warmer.”

“My torso is plenty warm.”

Off comes the outer shell of Cass’ suit, followed by a warm inner lining similar to Steph’s. “Still wearing your bra. Your bra is wet.” 

“My bra is just fine,” Stephanie insists. By her own assessment, her mental status is becoming a little less altered, because tired or not, it’s really hard to look away from her girlfriend’s amazing abs. And she’s wearing that cute purple sports bra again, the one that’s Stephanie’s shade of eggplant. That comes off too, and Stephanie probably makes some kind of embarrassing noise because Cass flushes a little before she pulls the blanket up and slides in next to Steph. 

They’re pressed chest to chest under the blankets, and Steph’s now hyper aware that her damp and clammy bra is _ very _damp and clammy. It doesn’t help that Cass’ hand are wriggling up her back trying to unsnap it. But she pretty warm now, definitely out of the danger zone, and when she weighs the discomfort of a soggy bra against the awkwardness of climbing out of the Batmobile naked, ugh, it’s so unfair that none of the guys ever have to deal with this.

“Sorry, but nope,” she says, rolling back to squish Cass’ hands between her back and the carseat. “M’not taking off my bra in your dad’s car.”

Of course, Bruce chooses the moment of open the door—without the decency to give any notice to them, jerk—and hesitates, clearly having heard her.

“Jesus Christ,” Stephanie mutters, hiding her face in Cass shoulder. Maybe she’ll just go jump back in the river.

Cassandra huffs, and Steph can almost hear her roll her eyes. “Decent,” she tells Bruce. “Back to the cave?”

He “hnnh”s in the affirmative, getting seated and starting up the engine. It purrs to life, and the quiet hum of the engine settles into Stephanie’s bones. Stretched out across the back seat, it’s almost like lying on a giant cat, especially when surrounded by fluffy blankets.

“How are you feeling, Stephanie?” he asks as he pulls the car into a sharp turn. Judging by the orange and blue lights that travel across Cassandra’s face, they’re near the Kane Memorial Bridge.

“I’m warming up,” says Steph. “Still have all my limbs. I’ll live.”

He hnnhs again, and addresses Cass this time, for her report on the events at the river. She’d been the first one to confront Freeze. Stephanie lets their voices wash over her as she closes her eyes and dozes, enjoying the deep humm of the engines and the way Cass’s warm breath huffs over her collar bone with each word.

“...yadda, yadda, good aim, Stephanie.”

“Whaa?” She lifts her head, squinting at Bruce’s silhouette. Had he just?

“Good aim,” repeats Cass, giving her a nod to reassure that, yes, that had just happened, and she had not hallucinated the words.

She says, “I know,” because really, what more can she say to that. It _ was _ good aim, it turned the fight in their favour, and she’s no longer Robin, desperate for Batman’s approval.

Also she’s tired, too tired to deal with her stupid baggage with Bruce.

Bruce and Cass don’t direct any more words towards her, and Stephanie’s content to lie back count the streetlights that race past. Ten, eleven, at the twelfth the Batmobile descends suddenly, decelerating for a brief moment before they’re swallowed by darkness. Steph smiles slightly to herself. Right on the count. Back in her early Robin days, stuck in the car with Bruce and his silent “you’re-not-Tim” judgement, she’d started counting the streetlights that led to the underground tunnel that ran parallel with Kane Memorial Bridge. It had felt like the appropriate Robin-ish thing to do. 

After some time they emerge again on the surface. There’s a brief staticy flicker as they pass through the hologram that conceals the entrance to the Batcave and then they home. _ Ish _. The cave and the manor will never quite be home for Steph, and that’s something she can live with. She didn’t need it. Never really had.

Bruce is the first one out, flapping off dramatically to the computer or something. Stephanie slowly sits up, feeling that weird post-nap lethargy suffuse her body. She kicks off the blanket covering the lower half of her body, pulling her legs up and tucking her feet under her remaining blanket. Crouched in the footwell, Cass wriggles into the top layer of her suit like it’s a sweater, and starts bundling the pieces of Stephanie’s armour into her cape. 

“You okay?” she asks, looking up at Stephanie.

“Tired,” Steph says, punctuating her word with a giant yawn. “But I want to shower first.”

“Of course,” says Cass. “Not sleeping in my bed after swimming the river.”

Steph wrinkles her nose. “You make it sound like I jumped in there for fun.”

“You can get to the showers on your own?”

Steph wriggles her toes and stretches her legs. Her right knee cracks, but everything still seems to work. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Okay,” says Cass, opening the door and sliding out of the car. “See you there?”

“Mmmm.”

It takes Stephanie a little longer to extricate herself. The floor is cold, and she squeaks a little, drawing her feet back up into the car. The way to the showers feels too far. For a moment she considers finding one of the cots and just sleeping right there in the cave. 

She hears Bruce coming but doesn’t bother to look up until he drops a pair of disposable carpet slippers before her. 

“Thanks,” she mutters, shuffling her feet into them. She tugs the blanket tighter against the constant chill of the cave and climbs to her feet. He doesn’t offer to help, instead hovering dad-ishly.

“I’m fine, B,” she says, flapping an arm at him. “Go back to brooding or whatever.”

Bruce huffs. “I just need to check you for a concussion,” he explains, and waits until she nods before he reaches out and gently tilts her chin up, passing a medical penlight between her eyes to check her pupil reaction.

“Any dizziness? Nausea? Ringing in your ears? A headache?”

“Nope, nope, nope and nope,” Steph checks off. “Didn’t really hit my head, twas my butt that did me in.”

“Right,” says Bruce, sounding amused. “Well, if you’re feeling all right…”

“I can go, Doctor Man?”

“Hmmm?” Okay, clearly she’s already been dismissed, since he’s halfway back to computer already. Time to look for her girlfriend. Or maybe shower first. Shower, Cass, bed. Where is Cass?

“Cass!”

“Over here!” she hears. Her girlfriend’s waving from the showers, steam wafting out from behind the door.

“Cassandra, close the door,” Bruce whines from his workstation. “You’re letting the damp in.”

“It’s a cave. Already damp,” Cass responds cheekily, but she closes the door anyway. She walks over to Steph, having ditched her own boots for her favourite Batman house slippers. They have tiny bat wings on the side, which flap jerkily with every step.

“You’re taking so long.”

“I fell into the river,” Stephanie says. “Gimme a break.”

Cass reaches out and Steph stretches out her own hand, thinking she just wants to hold hands or something. But Cass is sneaky, and just pulls her close so she can sweep her leg against the back of Steph’s knees. They fold, and she falls with a squeak, back into Cass’ arms.

“Wow,” says Steph, putting her arms around Cass’ neck. “Such smooth, very romance.”

Cass just waggles her eyebrows. It would’ve completely failed to be charming if it hadn’t been Cass doing it. Stephanie sweeps one arm out, pointing towards the showers. “Take me away, o brave knight.”

Cass laughs, carrying Steph off with no trouble at all. Steph does help her open the door, and again steam wafts out, enveloping Stephanie like a warm, humid blanket. A lavender scented blanket. The smell acts like a switch and Stephanie’s eyes flutter shut. She squeaks when she feels a slight pinch in her arm.

“No sleeping!” says Cas. “Shower first. You smell like fish.”

Cass is being polite. Steph probably also smells like trash, chemicals and diluted sewage. Whatever. Seeing that they end up in the sewers chasing an Arkham escapee just about every other month, she’s definitely smelled worse.

They strip down perfunctorily. Cass goes to dump their clothes and the blanket into a hamper. The water’s already running, and Cass has set up a shower seat under it. Any other time, Stephanie would push that aside. She hates feeling like an invalid. But today, right now? She could do with sitting down.

She lets Cass wash her hair for her, picking little bits of river detritus out and letting them wash down the drain. “You have a bruise, here,” says Cass, gently stroking over the skin of her back, near her hip.

“That’s what I get for saving your butt.” 

“Really?” Cass smiles impishly. “Thought you get this too?” And her girlfriend leans over to give her a kiss, soft, measured in a way only Cass can be, but no less passionate. She tastes a little bitter from the soap and shampoo sliding between them. Her hands slide up Steph’s nape, and bury themselves in her hair. 

“Shit,” Steph moans, wriggling a little at the luxury of it all; the warmth, the smell, the firm touch of Cass’ fingers massaging into her skin.

She probably dozes off there, leaning back against Cass, because the next time she blinks, she’s getting a faceful of lukewarm water, her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder, as Cass lifts her up into her arms.

“Cass!” she whines, and this time wriggles enough that her girlfriend gently sets her down on her feet.

“You were sleeping,” says Cassandra, giving her a slippery hip-check. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“And you were going to carry my butt all the way up to your room like Sleeping Beauty? Sure.” It’s not like Steph doubts that Cassandra could do it, but still. She can walk. She’s just tired. 

She lets Cass pull her out of the shower and wrap her in a large fluffy towel, before she sits her down on the bench so she can dry her hair. “Mmmm,” she hums as Cass massages her scalp. “I should fall into the river more often.”

“Or you could just stay over more often,” Cass says dryly.

“True, but then Bruce would give me my own room and I won’t have an excuse to sleep in yours any more.”

“You could just use it for your stuff,” suggests Cass.

“Cass, are you–” she is cut off by a giant yawn she can’t suppress. It’s catching, because over the sound of the hairdryer she hears Cass yawn too.

“Cass,” she says, nervously grabbing her girlfriends hand. “Can we just...can we talk about this tomorrow? Because I’m half asleep here and I really–”

“It’s okay,” Cass reassures her. “I’m–yeah, tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Love ya, babe.”

“Mmmm, love you too.”

She has to blink against the dark when they emerge from the changing area. The lights of the cave are dimmed, the computer screen dark, though the CPU still hums, running a search or calculations or whatever.

“B actually went up ahead of us?” Steph asks in bemusement.

“It’s already five am,” Cass tells her as they head for the elevator. “He has a meeting at nine.”

The sun’s already rising, a faint pink shining through the tall windows of the hallway when Cass suddenly goes very still and very silent. She puts a finger to her lips, and Stephanie freezes, one foot of the stairs. 

“You hear something?” she whispers.

Slowly, slowly Cass moves forward, almost like she’s gliding over the floor, she’s so silent. Steph moves after her as carefully as she can, aware of her heavier tread. At least in Wayne Manor she doesn’t have to fear creaky floorboards.

Whatever Cass, heard, it seems to be coming from the direction of the kitchen. Steph’s considering alerting the rest of the house when Cass relaxes, and straightens from her defensive crouch.

“It’s Tim? Jason?” Steph asks.

“No,” says Cass. “Father.” And she marches off into the kitchen. Steph hesitates, weighing the odds of this turning into an argument of some kind. But then she reasons, it’s _ Cass _, so she skitters in after her girlfriend.

She has to clap her hand over a shout of laughter at the scene before her. Batman, scourge of the streets, looking rather put out that he’d been caught lurking in his own kitchen. In the dark. There’s an iPad clutched in his hand, a mug of something cradled defensively against his chest.

“Father,” says Cass, but with an echo of Alfred’s “Master Bruce” when Bruce has just done something to piss him off.

“Cassandra, I—”

Cass sniffs the air. “You are drinking coffee.” There’s a brief scuffle as Bruce tries to wrestle his mug back from his daughter. She sniffs the contents again. “Instant? This is Tim’s emergency stash.” 

Steph gasps from the doorway, pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re the coffee thief! Tim’s been blaming me for it!”

“I—” starts Bruce, and usually Steph can’t see him working this hard to come up with some bullshit excuse. Maybe this time she’ll have the last word. “Dad tax,” he finally says.

“Dad tax only works when the other party _ knows _ they’re being taxed,” Stephanie retorts. “This is just stealing! Shame on you, Mr Crime Fighter. Wait till Tim—”

“Ugh, you two,” mutters Cass. “Just…bed!”

She presses a cup of chamomile tea that she’d fixed in the interim into Bruce’s hand. Then she points imperiously out the door, not moving until he’s given in and walked out. Stephanie watches amused, but then finds herself Casshandled too as her girlfriend grabs her by the shoulders and steers her towards the stairs after him.

“I’m telling Tim!” Stephanie yells up at him.

Bruce just grunts in reply. 

They part at the landing, exchange a bunch of tired goodnights, and while Bruce climbs the next flight of stairs, Cass steers her girlfriend to her room. Through the window at the end of the hall, Steph can already see the sun already peeking over the skyscrapers of the city. Somewhere from deep within the echoey halls of the manor, a clock chimes the half hour. Past five then. No wonder even Alfred’s already in bed. In fact, he’ll probably be up soon, doing whatever butlery things he does to keep the manor running.

They tumble into Cass’ unmade bed, Steph curling her legs up so she can free the thick comforter and pull it over them. As Cass plumps up the multitude of pillows under her head, Stephanie leans back against her girlfriend’s chest, letting her slow, steady heartbeat lull her into a doze. No matter how tired, sleep doesn’t always come easy to her.

“Okay?” she hears Cass ask softly, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Perfect,” Steph murmurs. It is.


End file.
